Page 11 of Tossing It

Chapter Five

Leif

I bought every flavor of chicken wings the diner made. On the off chance she was fucking with me, I also bought salads, burgers, and a fish and chips basket. Malena is sitting across from me at her glass kitchen table, her mother seated to her left rambling on about the bird she saw in the backyard this morning. We both respond to her at the same time and grin at each other when it happens.

“You really brought way too much food. What were you thinking? That you needed to feed an army?” Malena puffs out her cheeks and pulls a face. “Pass me the goblet of chicken wings fine, sir.” As I slide the platter, she removes a hair tie from her wrist and pulls her hair back against the nape of her neck. “Gets a little messy.” She shrugs as she digs into a wing, tilting her head to the side to get a better angle. When she pulls away, she has a smear of orange sauce on each corner of her mouth. She leaves it there.

My eyes light up when I realize she actually loves wings. They are my favorite cheat meal. Even though today isn’t that day for me, I know I’ll eat every single one she doesn’t to prove we have something in common. It’s an irrational need for Malena to understand I’m worth more than a one-night stand. It’s a fair assessment if she’s judging me against most of my friends, but it’s also a little irritating. I can’t control how I’m perceived regardless of my efforts to do things the right, normal way. I didn’t bring condoms like she asked and that was to also drive that point home. When she opened the door wearing a pair of tiny board shorts and a bikini top, I realized I fucked up big time on the condom front. Instead of none, I’ll need seventeen boxes. For one day.

Ms. Winterset picks at the array of food in front of her and Malena asks if she needs anything several times. It’s odd, as I know it’s her mother, but she is definitely more her patient. Malena is her caretaker. She reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, so it doesn’t get into her mouth when she takes her next bite.

“Mom, what do you think of Leif?” Malena coos, a sarcastic edge to her voice. She glances at me, “She always tells the truth. Even if she shouldn’t. It’s very entertaining.”

“Don’t ask her that,” I hiss. “I’m not ready for the truth.”

Malena quirks a knowing brow. “I’m ready for it though. Consider me a truth-seeking missile.”

“Leif, you say?” Ms. Winterset interrupts, her tone high and unsure. “This is Dylan. Right, son?” She turns to me. “You got a fancy new hair-do though.”

Grinning, I reply. “Yes, ma’am. Very fancy.”Tell me more about Dylan and what he has to do with Malena, please.“When was the last time we saw each other?” I hedge, flicking my gaze to the side to see Malena’s reaction.

Malena places a hand on top of her mother’s, ignoring me completely. “Mom, this isn’t Dylan. He’s not around anymore, remember? This is Leif. He wants to take me out,” she explains. Ms. Winterset has clear dark eyes, I’d think her a shrewd woman, the kind that knows a lot of things, but never gives their hand away. That is if I didn’t know better. Her face is an older version of Malena’s, but her skin is pale in opposition to her daughter’s.

Lines between Ms. Winterset’s eyes appear and her eyes turn down in the corner as she surveys Malena. “What happened to Dylan? Are you okay?” Motherly concern for her daughter’s welfare creeps in and that must feel nice, that she still has traces of herself even if they’re misguided.

“I’m fine, Mom. It didn’t work out. Are you full?” Malena asks, nodding to her mother’s plate. “I can get you something else, or are you ready to lie down for a bit?”

Ms. Winterset looks at me, an all-consuming emptiness now evident. “I’m a bit tired. It was nice seeing you, Dylan. Tell your daddy I said hello.”

I swallow hard. All I can manage is a nod. This is a lot to take in—to deal with when I’m not really sure what I want. The wooden chair legs scrape the floor as they both stand and then make their way down a hallway to the bedrooms. I’m thinking about how quickly I can run, and my chances of avoiding Malena for the rest of my life when she saunters back in, a weary expression on her face.

“You can go if you want. Thank you for lunch,” she says, forcing a smile and adjusting the string around her neck, then adds, “I’m sorry about that. I want to say it’s not usually that bad, but that wouldn’t be the truth.”

This is it. The moment I can politely excuse myself from getting entangled in her life. I can walk out of the door with a clear conscious and a new gratitude for my annoying, completely normal sisters and family. Malena sits back down in her spot and sets a baby monitor on the table. “In case she tries to run,” she explains. “Not hungry anymore?”

No, not at all. I stand and pace toward the front door, but then spin. The moment has passed and my mind has been swayed. It’s because her hips are perfect, and her eyes scream, save me, save me, please save me. She’s invoked my weakness unknowingly. “Who is Dylan?” I fire out.

She smirks. “I thought you were leaving.” She chews a bite of a buffalo wing. “Just an ex. No one important.”

I take a step toward the dining area and run a hand through my hair. “How long ago was Dylan?”

Malena sighs. “Why are you interested in my relationship history?”

“Answer my question,” I reply. “You can ask me whatever you want in return. I need to know certain things.” Sliding my hands into my board shorts, I try to keep my nerves at bay. “Because if I’m going to date you, I need to know who to watch out for.” I take another three steps toward her. There’s a string on her hip peeking out from her board shorts. If I pulled it, her bottoms would loosen. Training my eyes on her face is hard when I’m so desperate for her body.

Pushing away from the table, she stands and turns to face me. “You’re worried about my exes?” Malena eyes my arms, my neck, and then lets her gaze travel down the length of my body. “They aren’t anything to worry about. Not compared to you. I dated Dylan in high school.” Her gaze shifts to the left and then meets mine again.

My heart hammers. She’s so close I could reach out and touch the bare skin on her stomach, arms, and the sliver right above the waist of her shorts. “Who else here? In Bronze Bay?” I ask, my voice catching on the last word.

She steps forward. “A few one-night stands here and there. I don’t do relationships. Feelings are messy when it doesn’t work out in a small town. It’s best to leave them out altogether. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with my problems. Er, my responsibilities. So, tell me, what about you? Any exes you hold a burning torch for?”

“I don’t hold torches,” I say, lifting one brow. “I also don’t want a one-night stand with you.”

“Why? Am I not good enough for you?” she asks.

I laugh once, loudly.

She holds one finger over her lips to silence me. “She’s going to sleep.”

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